Oil and vinegar
by CitrineMama
Summary: Just the boys and my OC. Will be a series of one shots taking place before Secret. M for language.
1. Just call me Pi

"You know, being a dick won't make yours any bigger," Her smart mouth made the oldest hunter roll his eyes, obviously annoyed with the young woman seated across the table from him next to his brother. Her eyebrow quirked slightly as he closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head.

"You know what?" Dean downed the rest of the whiskey in the glass tumbler next to his laptop. "I'm calling you Pi from here on out." "That made Sam look up for a moment from the ancient text her was engrossed in at the moment.

"Aww, that's sweet." A smirk on her mouth made him roll his eyes. "Because pie's your favorite, hm?" She eyed her own tumbler, frowning when she saw it was already empty.

Dean snorted, his eyes on Brielle as a few russett colored tresses slid down to the sides of her face after escaping from her messy bun. "No, not the desset... the number, smartass."

Brielle looked over at Sam, then back to Dean. "Okay..." Her fingers tapped the pencil she was holding on the table absently, not following his logic, as usual.

"You don't get it, do you?"

"You think the blank stare would have been your first clue?"

His emerald eyes darkened somewhat. "Pi because you're irrational and you don't know when to stop... running that mouth mostly." That made Sam laugh out loud, his eyes twinkling as his friend huffed at Dean's reasoning.

"Shuddup, Sammy." Their voices were in unison, making Sam laugh even harder.

"I'm gonna put on a pot of coffee. Don't kill each other while I'm gone."


	2. Field trip for a tattoo

Sam entered the war room as he was pulling on a jacket over his flannel shirt. Dean was seated at the table, his eyes moving to his brother. "What's up? Where you going?" Sam picked up the impala keys.

"Into town for a bit." Sam answered as Brielle moved into the room, jacket and boots on. Her hair was down and wavy and the older man turned to look at her. She had on eyeliner this morning, which made her eyes stand out even more.

"Let me get my boots." Dean started to get up and Brielle put a foot up on the chair next to him, tying the long strings on her left boot.

"Just me and Sam are going." Her correction made his green eyes narrow.

"It's _my_ car."

"Then we'll take something else." Sam watched the two stare at one another.

"Where you guys going?" Dean turned to his brother, who was standing there with a dumb grin on his face. "Sam?"

"Tattoo parlor." He answered, making Dean look over at the brunette, who was now tying her right boot. She straightened up and moved towards the garage.

"For what?" Dean called to her. Sam shrugged before following her. Brielle turned to look at Dean.

"A tattoo, dumbass..." She paused, her eyes holding his. "And maybe a piercing." The expression on his brother's face made Sam laugh softly.

"A tattoo of what? And a piercing where?" Dean's big brother tone fell on her ears and she sighed dramatically. "Brielle?"

"Anti posession." Sam answered for Brielle as she continued to the end of the hallway to the stairs.

"And the piercing?" The older man called, his voice echoing slightly in the tiled hallway.

"No place _you'll_ ever see, Winchester." Brielle called back as she jogged up the stairs to the garage.

Dean pulled on his boots, lacing them up in record time before grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He jogged up the steps to follow the pair just as he heard Baby's engine start. "Oh hell no." He spoke as he reached the top of the stairs; Brielle was sitting in the driver's seat and Sam was in the passenger seat. "You are not driving my car."

"Are you sure? Because it sure seems like I am." She gave him a wink and a smile out the driver's side window. He growled and leaned down, resting his forearms on the edge of the open window.

"If you're driving my Baby, then I'm sitting up front." Sam buckled his seatbelt and looked over at his brother. "Sam."

"Sammy called shotgun." Dean stood up, closing his eyes. He swore softly before wrenching open the backdoor and sliding inside. The trio left the bunker and Brielle turned on the country music, making the oldest hunter roll his eyes. "Relax... you'll like it." She reached up to adjust the mirror and Sam chuckled as he heard his brother groan softly.

"Just _stop_ touching the mirror," The bench seat slid forward a bit and he slapped a hand on the seat next to her shoulder. He leaned forward to grumble. "Do you have any _idea_ how long it takes to find the sweet spot?"

Brielle slowed to a stop before pulling out onto the main road and glanced over at Dean, whose face was a few inches from hers. "It doesn't take long to find the sweet spot..." She paused purposefully. "If you know what you're looking for, Dean." The double meaning made Sam snort, trying to hold back his laughter as he stared out his window.

Dean just stared at the brunette wordlessly for a few seconds before sliding back and putting on his seatbelt.

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So this was a request from **ButterflyAlley**! A series of one shots between Brielle (my OC) and the boys, taking place pre- **Secret**. Hope you like this, my friend!

CitrineMama


	3. Haircuts for the Winchesters

"... Just a little off, Brie. _Damn_." Sam was sitting in his bathroom, shirtless, while Brielle cut his damp hair.

"Relax, would you? I used to do this all the time in school and I can't seem to recall all the complaining." Her teasing tone made Sam grin. She snipped all the ends off and tilted his chin up to check the evenness of the sides. "Where's that clipper?"

"In the bottom drawer."

Brielle found it and plugged it in before pushing his head forward a bit so she could clean up his neckline. "Sam, I missed this."

He knew what she meant. "The normalcy."

"Yeah. This makes me think about all those times when life was so much less complicated."

Sam smiled sadly when she finished and shut off the clipper, setting it down on the counter so she could inspect her work. "I missed you, Brie. I wish I would've called you sooner." He felt her brush off his bare shoulders.

"I think when people are meant to be in your life," She moved in front of him, meeting his hazel eyes. "They always gravitate back to you, no matter how far they wander." That earned her a smile. "Love you Sammy."

"I love you too."

"Ahem." Dean was standing in the bathroom doorway, neither of them noticing him until he'd cleared his throat. "He let you touch his hair?"

Brielle grinned as Sam rose, brushing the itchy clippings off his shoulders. "Yeah, I always cut his hair when we were in school."

"I'm getting a shower." Sam started to unbuckle his jeans. "I'll sweep up this mess." Pause. "Thanks Brie."

"My pleasure." She turned to leave and Dean spoke.

"You have any time for another appointment?"

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And that's how she wound up in Dean's bathroom to cut his hair. The brunette watched Dean drag a folding wooden chair into his bathroom. "So... you're not gonna make me bald or anything right?" The relationship between them was different; she was Sam's friend for years before he'd introduced her to Dean. The older man, of course, thought she was just some nerdy college buddy of his brother's. They'd butted heads a bit a first until they settled into a friendship involving playful banter and at times, awkward flirting.

"Maybe." The brunette was looking at the clipper attachments, deciding on one. Dean stripped off his flannel shirt and tshirt and her eyes moved to him, taking in the hard lines of his back as he moved to hang them on the hook in the bathroom. She averted her eyes when he turned to face her. "Go ahead and sit."

Dean did so, wearing only his jeans and belt. His green eyes watched as Brielle moved closer to him after sitting the clipper on the sink. Her hands moved to touch his hair, eyeing the length. His eyes were on her face, although her chest was eye level with him. "I'm thinking maybe a three on the sides and maybe a six on top." She murmured, more to herself than him.

Brielle moved around him as she buzzed the sides and the back first, then spoke softly. "Tilt your head forward for me." He did so and he felt her trimming his neckline carefully, then blowing the fine hairs off, giving him chills. Dean felt her brush off his shoulders with her warm hand. "Okay." He heard her snapping the other attachment on the clipper and Brielle stepped back in front of him, her hand moving to his chin, tilting his face back up.

He watched her bite her lip in concentration as her free hand ran through his hair after she buzzed the clipper through it, liking the length. Brielle moved from left to right, straddling one bow leg, then the other as she worked. Dean's hands suddenly itched to grip her thighs and pull her onto his lap.

"You have scissors in here? I wanna trim around your ears." Brielle's voice was soft as she moved back when he patted her hip, getting up to look in his medicine cabinet. Dean found them and closed the mirror, catching her staring at him in the reflection.

Wordlessly, he handed them to her and took his seat again. Brielle set the clipper down on the sink and moved in front of him again. She was close to him, tilting his chin up again, her hand on his face. Dean felt her trimming the fine hairs around his left ear, careful not to nick him.

Brielle's eyes met his for just a second, seeing his watchful gaze locked on her, giving her goosebumps. She blushed a bit, then shifted his face towards the left so she could trim around his right ear. His eyes moved up her body and back to her face when she moved back a bit.

Wordlessly, Brielle handed the scissors to Dean, her hands moving to his silky hair to check her work. His eyes closed at the feeling of her hands in his hair, his mind elsewhere. Brielle saw his green eyes flutter closed at her actions and his pouty lips parted slightly. She froze at the sight of him in front of her, shirtless, eyes closed and her hands in his hair.

"Looks good." She managed softly and his tongue snaked out to wet his lips before she pulled back, his eyes on hers again.

"Thanks, sweetheart." Dean's voice was an octave lower than it had been ten minutes ago. She reluctantly slid her hands from his hair and busied herself with pulling the clipper attachements off and putting his scissors back when he'd found them. Brielle could feel his eyes on her as she did so. "Looks good." She swore she chould feel the heat radiating off his body as he stepped up behind her to look in the mirror at her work. He spoke again and her brown eyes met his in the mirror.

"You're welcome." A beat passed. "I'm gonna go so you can shower and get that hair off you."

Dean nodded, his gaze making her feel things she shouldn't. He watched her go, his bathroom door closing behind her softly.


	4. Sick Dean

"He'll be fine." Sam finished his bottle of water, his hazel eyes on the brunette sitting next to him in the war room. Brielle sighed softly, her gaze moving to the doorway when she heard slow shuffling coming up the hallway.

Dean appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, his hair wild, his blanket around his tshirted upper half and jeans. Slippers adorned his feet and his eyes were a mix of gloodshot and glassy. "You still goin' with Garth?" His gravelly voice was even lower than usual. He coughed, a congested rattle in his chest. Dean had been sick with a bad head cold for a couple days, running a fever on and off. He was grumpy as hell and wouldn't let Sam do anything for him.

"Yeah." Sam got up, pausing to kiss the top of Brielle's head as he did so. Dean watched the pair as the brunette got up from her chair to give Sam a proper hug.

"You come home safe. I love you, Sam." Her whisper reached Dean's ears.

"You won't get rid of me that easy, Brie." Sam chuckled in her hair. Her let go of her and looked to the older man who was now leaning against the doorway. "I love you too."

"I'll be ready in ten." Dean coughed again, making them both wince.

"You're staying here with Brielle. No buts." Sam walked by his brother, picking up his bag on his way to the garage. Dean started to protest and Sam didn't acknowledge him as he departed from the room. The garage door closed behind him a few seconds later, echoing through the bunker.

"Damnit." Dean swore softly, wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his robe. "I'm just fine... just a cold." His cheeks were rosy and his eyes looked dull.

"You're sick, Dean. You can't go take on some hunt right now." He glared at Brielle, then sneezed. "Can I make something for ya to eat? You look..." Her voice trailed off and he smirked.

"I had bacon and eggs already."

"Dean," She spoke softly, her eyes on his. "That was yesterday. Today is Wednesday." His brow wrinkled at that bit of information. Brielle pushed her chair in and approached Dean, concern on her features. He moved back as she reached up to feel his face. "Let me feel you and see if you're fevered." Her cool hand cupped his stubbled cheek before the backs of her knuckles brushed against his forehead. "C'mon... let's get you some motrin. You're burning up."

"I don't need anything." He grumbled, but let her take his hand and lead him down to the bathroom that he and Sam shared. Brielle clicked on the light and let him go, pulling open the medicine cabinet. Brielle pulled out the thermometer and turned it on before Dean let her put it under his tongue. It beeped seconds later and she pulled it back out.

"You're almost a hundred and three." Again, the mirrored cabinet was opened. She found the platsic bottle she was looking for and sprinkled four orange pills into her palm.

"Open up." He quirked an eyebrow. "Dean." There was no room for argument. He let her push the pills between his lips and she filled a tumbler on the sink with cool water. He swallowed the pills and coughed again. "Are you coughing anything up?"

"Yeah a little."

"Green or brown?"

"Like, clear yellow." Brielle tugged on his blanket and it dropped to the tiled floor. "What're ya doin'?"

"You're gonna have a nice, cool shower while that fever comes down." Her hands were tugging his tshirt up and off before she undid his belt and unbuckled his jeans. He stood there while she did so and he stopped out of them, his hand on the sink for balance.

"Are you getting in there with me?" No matter how sick or hurt he was, Dean always flirted.

 _Always_.

"No." He was standing there in his boxers while Brielle reached around him to turn the water on. When she was satisfied with the tepid temperature, she nodded. "Take those off and get in."

"You take 'em off."

"Damnit, Dean." Brielle turned around and heard him undress and pulled the plastic shower curtain halfway closed. She turned around slowly, seeing his shadow on the back wall.

"This is cold." He complained.

"It's supposed to be."

"This is torture."

"Sorry." She eyed yesterdays clothing before picking it up to put in the hamper. "I'm gonna grab you some clean clothes... don't fall in there and break a hip, old man."

He mumbled something under his breath as she left the bathroom. Brielle hurried to his room and pushed open his door tenatively; she'd never even been in his room before and felt funny about it, like she was invading his privacy or something. She found some lounge pants and boxers in his dresser and decided against a shirt. Brielle went back across the hall and the shower water turned off. "I'm here." His hand reached out clumsily for the white towel hanging on the rack.

Brielle heard him moving around before he stepped over the tub wall, towel around his hips. He hadn't even dried off and she sighed before getting a clean handtowel to towel off his chest, back, arms and his calves. Dean watched her for a few seconds and closed his eyes. "Mm."

"Here's some pajama pants and some underwear." She set the two items on the hamper and turned her back again. The thought of him naked just a foot behind her made her cheeks burn.

"Okay." His towel dropped and she heard him getting dressed.

"You good?"

"Uh huh." Brielle glanced at the hamper before she turned around, seeing his boxers there.

"Underwear, Winchester?"

"I don't wear them with these." He sniffled and Brielle kept her eyes on his, away from the low riding lounge pants. "They're comfy." That made her smile.

"You wanna brush your teeth?"

"No." She gave him a look. "I guess I do, then." Dean brushed his teeth before he spat and rinsed as Brielle hung his towel up over the shower bar. "Why are you doing this?"

"What?"

"Taking care of me."

Brielle gave him a strange look. "Because you're sick. I do care about your well being, Dean." He considered that and leaned against the sink. "You want some soup or some tea?"

"Maybe." Dean sniffled and she grabbed a roll of toilet paper for him to blow his nose with, noting the tissues were gone. He let her lead him across the hallway to his bedroom.

"Lay down and let me get you something, alright?"

Dean sank onto his bed and looked up at her, exhaustion on his features. "Okay." Brielle gave him a small smile before disappearing from his doorway. He made himself comfortable on his bed and closed his eyes.

A weight settled next to him. "Dean?" His eyes opened and focused on the brunette above him. "I made you some green tea with lemon and honey." He grunted some sort of a reply and she sighed. "Please? I'm worried about you." The concern in her voice made him relax a bit before he raised up a bit on his elbow to drink.

"I can't even taste it."

"That's okay." He took another long drink, the tea warming him up a bit. "Why don't you lay down for a little while? I'll check on you in an hour."

"Just stay here." He murmured, his green eyes meeting hers. Brielle considered that. "Read to me or something?"

"What do you want me to read to you?"

"I bet you have some of those dirty paperbacks from the grocery store." The blush on her cheeks made him laugh softly, that quickly turning into a cough. She wadded up some toilet paper from the rool and handed it to him to spit into. "How 'bout one of those?"

"Fine." She patted his arm, noting the goosebumps on his skin. Brielle hoped like hell that his fever would calm down some. She returned a moment later, paperback in hand and settled next to him, her back against his headboard. He shifted a bit onto his side, his heavy lidded gaze on the brunette above him. Brielle started to read, his eyes closing a moment later.

"Brielle?" Dean murmured ten minutes later and she set the book down on her lap, dog earring the page. Her right hand moved to run her fingers through his short cropped hair. It was softer than it looked and he smiled a bit against her touch, his eyes closed.

"Yes?"

"I like it when you're nice." His filter was lifted because he was febrile, but nonetheless, that comment made her smile down at him.

"What about when I'm... not nice?"

Dean coughed again, his abdominal muscles tensing. His eyes were half lidded as they opened, full of sleep as he gazed up at her. "You're fuckin' hot." She scratched his scalp lightly with her fingernails and he groaned softly. "That feels so good." Brielle watched him shift a bit before he murmured. "Lay with me."

"I'm not tired. It's noon, Dean."

His chapped lips were pouty and he sniffled again, bringing up the toilet paper to wipe his nose. "But I'm sick. Please?" Suddenly, the thought of Dean being sick and no one to take care of him made her heart ache. "Brielle?"

"Yeah, of course." She reached out to set her book on his nightstand and shifted to sit up. "I'll be right back. Can you drink some more tea?" He nodded and shifted to lift his head up so he wouldn't choke. After he settled back down, Brielle went in to use the bathroom and change into some sleep pants and a tank top before padding softly back to his bedroom. She turned off the lamp on his nightstand before getting back into Dean's bed.

"It's me." She moved back into his bed and he reached for her, pulling her close to him. "Dean?"

"I like when you rub my hair." He murmured, his eyes closed. They were facing one another in his bed and she pulled a sheet over them, but no blanket. That was still laying in the bathroom. His warm hand settled on her hip and Brielle reached up to stroke his hair, smoothing the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

He had freckles, something she'd never noticed before. Of course, they'd never been in each other's personal space like this either. His lashes were so long and his stubble was about three days worth. Brielle cupped his cheek affectionately and he sighed, his lips parted in sleep. Her thumb dared to run over his bottom lip as she drank in the sight of him.

Dean was so vulnerable right then and Brielle couldn't help but to think how cute he was when he was sick; his voice was deep and husky, his eyes... half lidded with exhaustion and his verbal filter was lifted. Brielle continued to pet the hair at the nape of his neck, her eyes taking in every detail of Dean's face.

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Brielle woke up because she was sweating, entangled in someone's arms and her eyes flew open when she felt the hard evidence that was was in bed with a man. He groaned in front of her, deep in his chest, making her blush. His warm hand was on her ass and her lower half was pressed into his, the thin lounge pants he was wearing leaving nothing to her imagination. "Dean," She whispered, pushing at his chest. "Let go."

"But you're so warm." He whined sleepily, his eyes closed. "Just a couple minutes?"

"I have to pee." Brielle replied; it wasn't true, but if she stayed in this bed this close to Dean, she was gonna spontaneously combust. Dean sighed deeply before releasing her and rolling over onto his back. The brunette rolled over and got out of his bed, heading for the doorway. She paused outside the door, her hands shaking.

Since when did he get to her like this?

 _He's sick_ , she reasoned. He's probably delirious from the fever-

 _His fever._

Brielle turned back around and moved back inside his room to click on the light. Dean groaned in protest and she tried not to look at his lower half. He'd kicked the sheets off and there wasn't much to the imagination. She knelt one knee on the bed for a second to check his head.

"Dean?" She spoke softly, backing off a bit. "I'm gonna give you something else for your fever. I gotta check the time real quick." Brielle's traitorous eyes slid down his bare chest to his lower half, a blush heating her cheeks as her gaze danced over his bare chest, down his abdomen and across his light grey lounge pants that were draped _just_ below his hipbones and his erection.

 _Damn_. No wonder he was such a cocky bastard.

"Get me a beer." He grumbled, his eyes still closed. She shook her head before disappearing from his bedroom. A few minutes ticked by and she returned, not bothering with a thermometer this time. She'd gotten some gatorade from the fridge and poured it over ice for him.

"Dean? Sit up," She sat down on the edge and waited for him to comply. He pushed himself onto one elbow and eyed the brunette. "Take these. You're burning up." He let her put the pills in his mouth and give him a sip of the cold orange fluid. "Drink some more, please?" He did so, some of the gatorade dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

Dean watched the brunette tear off the toilet paper and dab off his mouth and chin gently. "Brielle?"

"Yeah?" She tossed the ball of paper in his wastepaper basket next to his nightstand and turned back to face him. He settled back down and looked up at her.

"What time is it?" His voice was quiet, raspy.

"Just after 6. You want something to eat? I'll make you anything."

"I'd eat some toast."

Her face fell a bit. "That's all?"

He coughed softly, covering his mouth with his right hand. "I guess."

"You want me to make you some soup?"

"Nah, you don't have to."

"Let me fix you something." Brielle reached out to pat his forearm, her eyes on his. "I'll be back." He watched her go.

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He groaned softly when he felt a soft hand on his face. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I got your soup. Did you drink some more gatorade?" Brielle set the bowl down on the nightstand carefully, noting the level of orange fluid hadn't gone down much. "Sit up here and eat something."

"What is it?"

"Chicken rice soup with lemon and mint." Dean wrinkled his nose. "Oh come on, you'll like it." She sat down next to him and he shifted so he was sitting up with his back against the headboard. She tucked a pillow behind his back for him to lean against before handing him the bowl of soup.

Dean stirred it a bit before bringing a tiny bite to his lips. His expression softened. "It's good."

"I know. I always make it when someone's sick." Brielle sat there next to him while he finished the bowl and handed it to her. She set it next to the nightstand and looked back over at the man next to her. "You feelin' better?"

"Yeah, much." Dean fought a yawn. "Still tired though." Brielle reached out to pad his thigh.

"Get some sleep." She shifted towards the edge of his bed. "What?"

"Won't you stay?" His puppy dog eyes made her give in. "Please?"

"Okay... your memory foam in quite nice, by the way." Brielle clicked the lamp down on the lowest setting and laid down next to Dean and he scooted down to settle on his back. She moved to lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, their eyes on one anothers.

"Well, you're welcme to sleep in here anytime."

"I'm sure _that's_ innocent."

His brow wrinkled. "You slept in here with me earlier, didn't you? I was a gentleman."

"Your hand was on my ass, Winchester." His expression changed to one of embarassment when she said that, his eyes searched hers for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, Brie," Dean's voice softened. "I didn't mean to..." She gave him a little smile. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"Brie?" Sam's nickname for her sounded nice coming from his lips. "Would we mind if... we..."

"If we what?"

"Spooned?" The brunette didn't answer, just shifted until she had her back to him. She scooted back just a bit toward his body and his hand smoothed under her right arm and around her torso. His fingers splayed out and slid under the hem of her tanktop, resting on her tummy that she was secretly insecure about. "This alright?" His whisper right next to her ear made goosebumps on her skin.

"Yeah." Brielle's whisper made him relax. Dean hugged her just a little bit closer.

"Feels good to be this close to you," He whispered in the semi darkness and she blushed.

"It does." She agreed. Dean nuzzled into her hair, his nose brushing the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

"Sorry."

"Night Dean."

"Night sweetheart." He whispered back.

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A/N:

So this was a lengthy scene so I broke it up into 2 parts. Love me some sick!grumpy!Dean. :)

Reviews are love! Have a wonderful week!

CitrineMama


	5. Sick Brielle

9:17 a.m.

Dean was awake and drinking some sort of tea concoction that Brielle had on the contertop in the kitchen in her tea box. She was still in his bed sleeping when he'd gotten up. He felt ten times better; whatever head cold virus he'd had seemed to be only 48 hours long and he was grateful for that. He'd coughed out a bunch of phlegm and his sinuses felt much clearer now.

His throat was a little sore, but that was all. He'd showered and had some more of whatever soup Brielle had made him. He yawned and stretched after putting his bowl in the sink next to hers before heading back to his bedroom. Dean was halfway down the hallway when he heard a soft cough.

His pace quickened and he made it to the doorway of his room, his hands on the doorframe. "Brielle?" She coughed again and he winced at the sound before sitting on the egde of his bed. "Sweetheart?"

Her eyes opened and her brow wrinkled when Dean's rough hand cupped her flushed cheek. "Why're you in my room?" The brunette whined, making him smile a bit.

"You're in my room." Dean corrected. "I was sick and you were taking care of me." Her eyes closed when he felt her forehead with the backs of his knuckles. "I think you got what I had, sunshine."

"No I don't." She mumbled, her eyes closing again. "I'm cold." Brielle's lower lip trembled ever so slightly. "Get me a blanket." He sighed. "Dean..." Her whine was cut off by him patting her hip.

"Let's get you something for that fever, hm?" He got up off the bed and headed towards the bathroom, suddenly remembering a time when he and Sam were young. Their dad was on a hunting trip and Sam was sick. A ten year old Dean took care of his little brother, painstakingly managing his fever and encouraging fluids between boughts of nausea.

He wasn't sure where that soft nature came from. Maybe subconsciously from his mother, he wondered briefly as he searched for the same medication she'd given him the evening before. Dean pulled down the thermometer and grabbed the pill bottle, heading back towards his bedroom.

Brielle had dozed off again, still coughing in her sleep. His brow wrinkled as he heard the wheeze.

That wheeze, that rattle, was never good.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, gently tugging the brunette into a sitting position. He reached out his left hand for the bottle of pills he'd placed on his nightstand and poured out a couple, half of what he or Sam usually took. They had an awful habit of never looking at the real dosage and he didn't want to risk that for her.

Brielle's eyes opened and Dean's face came into focus slowly, right above hers. "Sweetheart, you have a fever. Please let me take your temperature." She blinked, his words not registering in her sinus clouded mind. "Brielle?" She pushed his hand away that was holding the thermometer.

"What?" The brunette sounded like a small child, confused. He set the item on the nightstand, choosing the other battle.

"You have a fever. Take these." Dean repeated, his gruff voice softening a bit. She let his calloused fingers push the two pills between her lips before bringing the tumbler with the watered down gatorade to her mouth. She drank a bit and some dribbled down her chin as she coughed, not bothering to cover her mouth. "Don't die on me, here," He said and she lay back down, her eyes closing.

Her breathing was labored, he noted. "Dean?" A wheeze followed his name. "Need my inhaler."

He shifted to get up. "Where, baby girl?" Dean had no idea she was an asthmatic and she'd been living with them for some time now. "Brielle?"

"Nightstand." The brunette managed. He left her there, sitting somewhat uncomfortably against his headboard.

"I'll be back in a second." Dean practically bolted down to her room and yanked open her top drawer. Hairbrush, some loose change, books, colored pencils, phone charger... inhaler. When he got back to his room, she was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on her knees, fighting for every breath, her shoulders revealing her labor.

Her dark hair was curtaining her face and he knelt in front of her, smoothing her hair back. Brielle raised her head to look at the man in front of her, soft pants coming out of her parted lips. "Here." He uncapped it and she took it with shaking hands. She shook it twice and put it to her lips to use. She took two puffs and her breathing improved slightly. "Brie?"

"I need..." Brielle closed her eyes when his hand patted her thigh comfortingly, still struggling to convey what was happening.

"What do you need?"

"Antibiotics."

Dean frowned. "I thought this was asthma."

"Gets like this, then gets..." Brielle turned her face from his to cough, her ribs protesting.

"Worse?" She nodded and his eyes closed briefly. "Lemme call Sam."

spnspnspn

"Alright." The doctor was an older woman and she was waiting for Dean and Brielle in the parking lot of a 24 hour gas and sip. Brielle was sitting inside the passenger seat, looking miserable. Dean opened her door and the woman squatted down, pulling out her stethescope to listen to Brielle's breath sounds. "She's got a lot of rhonchi and wheezing."

"Rhonchi?"

The woman nodded, wincing as Brielle started another coughing fit. She stood up, reaching into her pocket. "Fancy doctor words for secretions and mucous in the brochial airways." She pulled out a notepad and scribbled across it. "What name you want this under?"

"Layla Jones."

The doctor scrawled two scripts for him and tore them off. "I wrote for ten days of antibiotics and a new inhaler." She handed those to Dean, her blue eyes on his. "You know how many times I patched up your Daddy?"

"I probably can't count that high."

That made her smile as Dean closed the passenger door gently. "There's a drive through pharmacy up the road here. You pick those up and start those meds today... she'd gonna get pneumonia with her asthma like it is. Watch for that fever. If you can't get it down by alternating tylenol and ibuprofin every four hours, get her in a tepid bath."

"A what now?'

"Tepid bath." Miranda repeated. "What you'd consider a cool shower. she'd not gonna like it, but you don't want her insides cookin'." Dean nodded, remembering the brunette making him take a cold shower the night before. "You call me in a couple days and let me know how she's doing. I'm goin' out of town, but if she's getting worse, I'll call something else in for ya."

"Miranda," Dean reached out a hand to shake. "I can't thank you enough."

The blonde doctor laughed, bypassing his hand and hugging him tight. "Your daddy saved my life. I owe him for the rest of mine." She patted his cheek. "Take care of her. Keep me posted." Dean smiled as he watched her get in her car before he got into his. She waved before pulling out of the parking lot.

He headed down the road and found the pharmacy easily. Brielle took another two puffs on her inhaler. "You want something to eat while we wait?" She shook her head. The lady at the window had them back out on the road again and heading for the bunker within ten minutes and Dean was thankful.

His phone rang and he answered it. "Yeah?"

"Did you get ahold of Miranda?"

"Yeah," He glanced over at the brunette who was leaning against the window on the passenger seat. "Just got her stuff from the pharmacy and heading back to home base."

"Thanks for taking care of her Dean." Sam sighed on the other end. "Garth really needed my help and-,"

"Sam, I got her. She took care of me and I'll take care of her." Pause. "It's fine."

On the other end, Sam relaxed a bit. "I know you guys don't get along..."

"We're fine Sammy. Really." _She read to me and ran her fingers through my hair until I fell asleep,_ Dean wanted to say. "She's a real good girl." That made the younger man smile.

"She's good for you, Dean."

"I know." Was all he said.

"Keep me posted. get her medicine started as soon as you get back. I rmember her getting real sick like this years ago... started out as some dumb cold and her asthma just made shit ten times worse." Sam's voice dropped. "I wish I was there..."

"I got her, Sam." Dean assured his brother. "I won't let anything happen to her. I promise."

spnspnspn

Brielle could barely get out of the impala without losing her breath and Dean set the white paper bag of medications down on the hood of his car after he got out and walked around to her side. "Sweetheart, I'm gonna carry you in there, m'kay?"

"I'm too heavy." She wheezed, leaning against his car. Dean closed her door, smirking at the brunette's stubborn nature. He chuckled before hoisting her up into his arms.

"No you're not. I've hauled Sam's ass to the moon and back." He took the stairs carefully. "You can't even talk, much less walk all the way to my room. Stop arguing with me, baby girl."

Brielle gave up and rested her head against his chest as his movement rocked her gently. He laid her on his bed and she sat up immediately, coughing. "Can't lay flat."

"Okay. Just sit up. Let me go get your meds and get you something to drink."

Brielle was coughing while Dean's footsteps faded. She needed to empty her bladder before she peed all over his bed. She rose on wobbly legs, the wind going out of her sails almost immediately. She took a few tenative steps towards the door, gripping the doorframe like it was her lifeline.

She gasped for each breath, her dark eyes on the bathroom door across the hallway.

Ten steps.

I just have to take ten steps.

She made it about seven before she collapsed in the tiled hallway and she heard Dean swear softly.

"I told you to stay in bed." His stern tone made her eyes well up with tears.

"I'm sorry." Brielle was sobbing softly now, which wasn't helping at all with her breathing status. "Have to pee." The last word came out as a wail and his eyes closed painfully.

"I'm sorry." Dean whispered. "C'mon." He helped her to her feet and walked her the rest of the way into the bathroom. She stood in front of the toilet and unzipped her jeans and tugged those and her underwear down in front of him. Dean's eyes widened and he turned his head. "At least wait until I turn around."

She was sitting on the toilet peeing when he heard the rustle of clothing. "I need to... shower."

"You can't even breathe. Shower can wait." Was his reply.

"I peed myself when I was coughing." Brielle whispered, ashamed.

"Alright." Dean dared a glance at her. She was sitting on the toilet, her jeans, panties and socks off, her tshirt and flannel on and _most_ of her modesty intact. "Sit right there until I come back with some clean clothes, alright?" She started coughing again.

His calloused hands dug through her clothing in her dresser until he came up with some pajama pants and a tank top. Dean hesitated before digging through the delicate items in her nightstand drawer; thin, lacy fabrics with various patterns and styles greeted him.

He plucked out a seemingly innocent pair of black panties and held them up. They seemed to be full coverage and would probably be more comfortable than some thong, he mused.

Then Dean noticed that they had a little opening at the bottom.

Nope.

Those were definately crotchless panties.

That made him blush and he tossed those back in, his mind in the gutter.

"Okay. Pajamas it is." He shoved her drawer closed and straightened. Somehow, no panties seemed more innocent to him as he walked back down to the bathroom, clothing in hand.

Brielle looked up at him warily as he entered the bathroom. "Let me turn on some water and we'll get you in there." Dean crossed the bathroom, setting her clothing on top of the hamper. He pulled the plastic curtain open and started the water. When he was satisfied with the temperature, he turned to Brielle. "Can you get undressed and step in there or you need me to help you?"

"I can.. get undressed." Dean nodded before he turned his back to her. "Just don't look... okay? I don't want you seeing me naked." He sensed her getting up and closing the lid before flushing. The curtain was yanked closed ten seconds later.

"You've seen me naked." He teased.

"Almost naked." The steam was rising over the sore muscles in her back and she closed her eyes, leaning against the cold tiles. "Not completely."

"I'm not shy."

Brielle took some deep breaths. "You're very _modest_ , Dean." That made him laugh from his side of the curtain.

"I know." A comfortable silence fell over them then, an understanding passing between them. Yeah, maybe they hadn't gotten along when she'd arrived and butted heads most days, but when push came to shove, they took care of one another. "You alright in there?"

"Yeah." Brielle washed herself slowly, not wanting to overdo it and lose her breath again. That would result in Dean having to help her get dressed. _Not_ _happening_. The water shut off and he reached around the curtain to hand her a towel. She dried her hair some and then her body. Wrapping the towel around herself, Brielle pulled open the curtain. Dean was standing there, his right hand out for her to take.

Chocolate met jade when she took his hand and helped her over the side of the tub. "Just take your time. No rush. I don't want you losing your breath, m'kay sweetheart?" She smiled a bit. When she was steady, Dean let her go and turned his back so she could dress.

Brielle eyed what he'd chosen. "Underwear, Dean?"

His shoulders tensed some. "I... uh..."

"You could've gotten me a pair."

"I looked through them and..."

Brielle pulled on pajama pants and yanked on the tanktop, her nipples hardening against the fabric. She crossed her arms. "What underwear drawer were you looking in?" Her tone held some suspicion at his sudden change in demeanor.

"The one in your nightstand."

"Those are... My other underwear drawer in the drsser has the everyday ones." Her soft statement ended in another cough. "I need to start those pills." Dean shook himself mentally.

"I was getting them when I heard you up around on your own. Let me get you back to my room and get you taken care of, alright?" He hung her towel over the bar and helped her across the hall. When they were finally in his bedroom again, Dean helped Brielle into the chair in the corner. "Sit here. I'm gonna get you something to drink your pills with and I'm gonna change the sheets. They still have my germs all over them."

Brielle closed her eyes as he left the room, focusing on her breathing. His footsteps returned a moment later with some ginger ale and her first antibiotic pill. She took it along with half a can of the soda before watching Dean strip his bed. He tossed the linens into the hamper before putting on fresh white sheets and pillowcases.

She enjoyed watching him work; he took great care and attention to detail to every task, whether it was cleaning a gun, washing his car or cooking breakfast. Brielle watched him shamelessly, the muscles under his tshirt making the thin fabric stretch across them.

 _Did he realize how much he turned her on?_

Dean turned down the sheet and thin blanket before turning back to her. "Brielle?"

"Yes?"

"You alright?"

She nodded. "C'mere. Let's get you tucked in. You rest for awhile." Dean helped her into his bed again, propping her up on two pillows so she wasn't laying flat. He smoothed her damp hair back. "You didn't comb your hair." Brielle just shrugged. "Let me comb your hair." He left her again and returned with her wide toothed comb.

She sat up and he sat next to her, painstakingly running the plastic comb through her damp hair until it combed through easily. Dean combed over her hair a few more times, noting her closed eyes as he did so. "Thank you." Her whisper made him smile a bit.

"I'm gonna shower and then I'll be in, 'kay?" A nod from Brielle. "Good." His weight lifted from the bed and the brunette snuggled into his pillows, disappointed from the scent of the fabric softener. She liked his scent much better.

spnspnspn

Dean got out of the shower and toweled off before he put on deodorant and clicked off the light, heading across the hallway. Brielle was sleeping, her lips parted slightly still propped up on the two pillows. Dean turned the lamp on the lowest setting and picked up his remote. His television only had a few channels, but one of them was tv land and that was good with him.

He settled next to Brielle, his back against the headboard. She sniffled and stirred. "Jus' me, sweetheart," He murmured and she nodded, her eyes still closed. The three stooges were on and he turned the volume down low. His hand moved to her back as she faced him, rubbing in gentle circles as she slept.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand and he picked it up. "Sam?"

"How is she?" Sam's concern bled through the cell.

"She's hanging in there." Dean's thumb smoothed across her warm skin where her tank top ended between her shoulder blades. "Fever's gone for now. First dose of antiobiotics in too." He heard Sam on the other end. "How's the hunt goin'?"

"It's okay. Interviewed everyone today and tonight we're gonna check out the library's records to find out anything else." Sam paused. "She sleeping?"

"Yeah."

"In her bed or where?"

"Mine." Sam made a noise. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Hey thanks for reaching out to Miranda. She was so great to do this for us... for Brielle."

"Dad saved her." Sam said simply. "She said anytime we need something to call her." Dean nodded along. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll call you first thing in the morning and check on you guys."

"Sounds good." Dean's tone got gruff. "You be safe out there tonight. Don't you let Garth talk you into anything stupid."

Sam laughed. "Sure thing brother." They hung up. Dean stared down at his phone for a moment before looking down at the brunette who'd started to cough again, the gasp at the end making his brow wrinkle.

"Brielle?" She didn't answer him, just pushed off his bed suddenly feeling more short of breath, almost slamming the back of her head into his nose. She sighed miserably and leaned into him. His arm snaked around her shoulders and he hugged her close. "I know. I'm sorry..." Brielle's eyes closed as she felt Dean press a kiss to the crown of her head. "I just had a touch of this crap and you got the brunt of it... I'm so sorry, kiddo."

That made her smile, her eyes still closed as she leaned into him. "Of all the things in this world to suck at... I'm bad at breathing." Dean chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "I have the worst luck."

"I'm here. You'll feel better soon."

"And if I don't?"

"We'll figure it out. I'll call Miranda and we'l get you whatever you need, sweetheart."

That made Brielle relax some. Dean leaned them forward a bit and stuffed a pillow behind his back between his back and the headboard. He relaxed back and Brielle settled into his chest again. Her eyes were still closed and he hugged her close. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Her soft words were full of so much more she couldn't voice at that moment, but he understood.

"Anytime, Brielle." He pressed another kiss to her hair and she smiled a bit against his chest, knowing she was in good hands.


End file.
